The Forgotten Storms
by Madzamicated
Summary: She wanted nothing but to fulfil a man's dying wish, one that would give her power to benefit or harm the world. 'They' wanted what she had and attempted to snatch it away, but not before Captain Edward Kenway could kidnap the 'wanted woman.' What develops is unexpected; warmth from two cold hearts in the face of danger and death. EdwardxOC
1. Chapter 1: Breakaway

_Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and all characters, locations etc. within the game. I only own my OC._

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Her feet moved with a hurried anxiousness as her arms draped heavily over the package wrapped under her arm, hidden underneath the folds of her dress. Her shoes scuffled along the dirt road, a fine dust covering the black material and fading the tips to a dirt-coloured brown. As she dropped her head she walked faster, too scared to look behind her. Entering the town square, she surveyed the town streets and embraced the town market, selling all types of unwanted myths and goods. The sight of so many people relaxed her. She could blend in here but had to remain as normal as possible; she could not be caught looking suspicious. She slowed her pace to a speed where it seemed she was inspecting the contents of the stalls. She leisurely turned her head to the right, catching a lady who sold an elixir said to fix a balding head. To the left, another woman sold her powers of fortune telling, claiming she could see into the future with a deck of picture cards and a sprinkle of herbs. The young woman gave a quick chuckle. No such thing. Plus, the herbs could be better used to make a meal for the beggars than to give people false hope. Her stomach rumbled at that; she didn't know how long it had been since her last meal. _The sooner the job is done, the sooner I can eat_ she thought. She gave the fortune teller one last look. There was only one way to know your future; make it for yourself.

As she walked through the stalls she caught a man selling mirrors and, as he flashed it towards her, she saw two burly men reflected back, following her at a safe distance. The mirror was soon turned away from her and her eyes widened as her pace quickened. She held the package a little bit tighter and walked to the direction of her destination. Not far now. As she turned into an alleyway of hostels and bakeries, she heard two sets of heavy footsteps behind her. She made the mistake of looking behind her and, when she caught their gaze, lifted up the hem of her dress and ran. Their heavy steps followed as they yelled insults at her. She knew she would not escape here on the ground so, tearing off the skirt from her dress (leaving only the coloured bodice and a pair of black pants concealing her), she jumped onto some piled crates on the side of the street and made a leap to catch a pole jutting out from a building. Having only one hand to hold her up with was difficult but she didn't dare to let go of the package. Swinging herself onto the rooftops, she glanced down and saw the men's angry fists waggling in the air at her while their lips screamed hateful insults. She gave a smirk and ran on the rooftops, landing softly on the tiles as her calculated leaps prevented her from falling to her death. She stopped for a second, catching her breath and looking at the town. Tiled rooftops, two storey houses, greedy people, hostels, brothels and bakeries. She wanted so much more than this but was not able to escape; she could not break her last promise and leave it here alone. As she jumped over the rooftops, she spotted her destination.

Her heart raced as she neared the building entrance; a huge wooden door with magnificent brass handles concealing the secrets that lay within. She grabbed the knocker – a shimmering lion's head with its jaw open wide to reveal bare teeth, a clear warning for anyone who dared to enter. She banged it against the door three times, took two steps back and let out one heavy breath. A man came to the door, noted her figure and motioned her inwards. She gave slight nod and made her way to the owner's study. She simply barged into the room without warning and he immediately stood and opened his arms.

"Always on time," he spoke warmly as he stepped around his desk. She handed him the package and he gave her a saddened look, his wrinkles further pushing into his skin. "This is boring you, is it not?"

"You know I need more."

"I know. I've been in your position. Honour your promise though. You know the consequences if you break it," he warned. "We are both prisoners in this world, you by your promise, and me by fear."

"My promise is none of your concern. But you? Fear?" she questioned, folding her arms across her chest. "What have you to fear? The strongest man in our empire, you can command this town with a wave of your hand. You can surely agree someone like me has more to fear; running from the intentions of drunken men, escaping death by mere inches just so someone can grab the crusts of bread from your hands, knowing that you are never safe, not knowing where your next meal will come from or whether you will generate an income for the week and forever running. Your life is easy. Tell me about fear. You are decorated in gold; no one would dare to touch you."

He stayed calm despite the anger in her voice – it dripped like poison. "But that is what makes me more of a target. I live in a different world than you, my dear. My fears greatly differ from yours. I fear steel blades and black flags."

She stopped. "These boxes I deliver to you, are they the source of your fear?" She would dig deeper until her inquisitive nature was fulfilled. He gave a light shrug, placed the package on his desk then opened the top draw, revealing a crimson-coloured envelope.

Handing it to her, he said, "Take this to him and thank him for our business deals together. I'm sure there will be many more in the future. Here is your money." His sudden coldness warned her that attempts to look into his private affairs were risky. She nodded and walked out of the room swiftly, carrying the letter with care as she made her way home.

She decided to keep her feet planted on the ground as her legs were tired from her previous escape. Though she could get home (what she called home) more quickly by skimming over rooftops, she decided that her body needed to relax as the day had taken its toll on her. As she walked at a delicate pace, much faster than others but she was not in the mood for a 'walk in the park', she contemplated her previous discussion. Steel Blades and Black Flags? What did he mean? Steel blades were obviously swords but black flags? The closest connection she could make was a pirate flag but crewmen and captains were always too drunk to wreak havoc on Havana. Though Pirate attacks had occurred in the past, what did he have to fear? The moment a cannon blasted, he was escorted out of the city to a safe-haven. His stance in society protected him from any physical harm – the guards always blocked his door. But then again, everyone was subject to emotional pain and suffering. The only guard there was you. And you were the only trainer of that guard and any emotional pain was blamed entirely from your lack of training. Perhaps his guard was not so strong anymore, all she knew was that someone had a hold over him and it wasn't imaginary. Her feet stopped for an instant and her body stiffened. If someone was to influence him, they could get to her via their association. Her part, even though she may not be aware of exactly what it was, could end up getting her killed. She always prided herself that her greatest instinct was self-preservation. Now was the time to use it. She knew she would have to get more information about steel blades and black flags for her own safety and to ensure that her last promise would not break.

She stopped at a bakery on the way back, picking up two loaves of bread.

"I see you had a job this week," the baker commented as she handed over the money to pay. "Last week you both must have been hungry." She nodded slightly. At least she was busier this week; she was actually able to afford bread. He gave her the two loaves and added a few biscuits into the package. She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted before she could begin, "Don't argue. Take them while I have them. Next week there may be none." She nodded in understanding, thanked the baker and walked away.

Walking through the streets of Havana, you could often spot a beggar and, as always, pirates and drunken allies conversing loudly within the bars, yelling slurred words over bottles of rum. These were regulars in this town along with whores, unfaithful husbands and guards. She walked past familiar faces and worn-out places, often stopping outside a noisy bar as the strong smell of rum filled her senses. What she would give to have a taste! She shoved her hand into her pockets and pulled out a small amount of money, barely enough for a drop. Sighing heavily, she dragged her feet past the bar as she managed to control her near-unquenchable thirst. As the day was nearing its end, her body grew weak but she knew she must make one more stop before arriving home.

After walking for a while, she spotted a brown weather-beaten door with a faded sign above it, reading "Kitty's Brothel". She pushed the door open and saw half-dressed women walking around, men clinging to the bare halves of their bodies. She knew the faces of most of these men, high standing people in society, however were ruled by parts other than their brains. After looking with disgust at most of the drunken men and with compassion towards the women forced to be here, she walked up to the infamous Kitty. Handing her a loaf of bread and some biscuits she said, "Give this to her. Make sure she's looked after. I'll come by later on this week to see how things are."

She nodded, "I'll give them to her but there's only so much I can do to look after her."

"I know, I know. It's a tough time for all of us but she needs to be looked after, especially now."

"Understood," Kitty said with sympathy in her voice. Everyone was struggling here; if you weren't rich, you were a dirt-poor beggar. These two polar opposites seemed to exist side-by-side here in Havana, not without tension, but pleasant enough for them both to survive. However, most of the poor were kept for the pleasure of the rich, especially the females who had no other choice if they wished to eat every day, or the beggar who so desperately wanted proper shoes to protect his blistered feet from the hard cobblestone that he tolerated being beaten as a servant. Life was cruel here; an everlasting circle that could not be broken. You were a fool to believe you could change it.

She walked out of the brothel with a trace of sadness. Here, she considered herself lucky, the fact that she was employed (sometimes) however, when she walked the streets, she considered herself to be poor. Funny how self-perception changes as quickly as the wind. The only curse she thought she bared was her ability to see beyond the façade. She knew this life was bad for her and everyone stuck in it but she was unable to reach out her hand to help. The best she could hope for was a stable job – she was to look out for herself before anyone else. That's the way this world turned. Oh how often she had wished on a starry night that she was better off, that justice could be brought unto the citizens of Havana. That the rich would suffer for their crimes of gluttonous greed and that the poor would be set free again. That all the promises her father made to her long ago would come true; she would be happy and healthy, marry a wonderful man and be blessed with children, that she would live in a proper house and was able to keep warm on a winter night. Too many people here were enslaved by their suffering and hope for a better life. The sad thing was, so was she.

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**Hello all,**

**Welcome to my first published fanfic! I hope you all enjoy it and please, please, please share your thoughts on it (positive or negative. Comments are much appreciated) **

**I know Edward wasn't revealed in this chapter but you know how it goes, introduction to setting and character first. But he will pop up soon and begin to Captain this fanfic ship. But really, what's a ship without the crew a.k.a 'citizens'? As Ade' referenced the citizens of Jackdaw, I too, call upon all those reading this (if you still are!) to join this ship as it sets sail. Citizenship requires a love of AC! That's all!**

**Also, if I don't update for a while please keep pestering me to do so. I have a horrible habit of leaving stories without an end. It would be even nicer if you could give me some ideas of where the stories should be going (sometimes I lack inspiration). I am MORE than willing to collaborate with anyone who has any ideas for further story chapters! I know I can't do this all by myself.**

**Thanks for reading and hopefully I'll see you around for more chapters!**

**- Madzamicated**


	2. Chapter 2: Tell Tales

_Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and all characters, locations etc. within the game. I only own my OC._

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The amazing noisy chaos filled her ears as the morning began. The voices of many conversations consumed her. She could not make out the words but she could hear the pitch and volume of their complaints. Their faces were set in stern lines as they discussed how they would survive for today; what would they eat? What would they drink? Where would they be sleeping tonight? She knew that when she had fully awoken, these thoughts would process in her head for they were her problems too. She decided to take advantage of this nonsense and peace before she had to care about surviving. The noise grew louder in her ears as her senses became more acute. She heard the familiar cry of children, the hushing of parents, the concern in the voice of adults, the fighting between couples, the yelled advertising in the market.

"Luca stop whining!"

"Where will we sleep tonight?"

"You told me you had some money!"

"Come and buy! Fresh bread!"

"This doesn't fit right."

"Look at that poor man."

"Mumma, I'm hungry!"

The voices blurred together as she hauled herself up and dusted the dirt off her clothes. She saw that her bodice and pants were ruined from the previous days of skidding on roof tiles and running against stone walls. Mind you, it was worth it. She'd rather have ruined clothes and food than good clothes and a hungry stomach – and a broken promise. However, she decided, she was in need of some new clothes. She knew that in order to do her work, even though it was delivering packages, she needed to look presentable (in the best way that a poor person could) otherwise she wouldn't be hired for the day. So, she went in search of some new clothes.

She was always hesitant about stealing unless it was absolutely necessary. There were always the times she stole a small bag of coins and occasionally some food but she deemed these stolen goods as a necessity, reducing her care on the morals of the matter. She knew that she needed new clothes in order to work so, quietly blending in to the crowd, she spotted a stall filled with women of all shapes and sizes. She could easily take something unnoticed and slip away. She drew closer to the stall and, though disappointed that there were only dresses, she gently grabbed a floor-length green gown and tried to make her escape. But before she could turn, she felt a tug on the dress.

"Dear, may I try this on? I really don't think it will fit you," a woman said with her hands clawed around the edge of the dress. She was a mother, judging by the whining boy hanging of her leg.

"No, I'm sorry. I just paid for it. I'm afraid you're going to have to find something else," she said as politely as she could manage while giving a firm tug on the dress back in her direction.

"But you see dear, my daughter is getting married and I believe that this would be the most perfect dress for me to wear to the ceremony. The colour dulls your skin anyhow," she explained, hope glimmering in her eyes.

"I'm so very sorry but you can't have it!" the young woman exclaimed, tearing the dress from the mother's hands and running out of the stall. Who cares if it was her daughter's wedding? She needed the dress more anyway – her reason was far more valid.

Before she was barely five steps out of the stall, she ran into a city guard who towered above her.

"Excuse me, but may I be so bold to ask why you are running away with this dress?" He questioned.

"No reason, Sir," she smiled sweetly.

"Well it's seems rather suspicious to me." He called over two more guards. The young girl knew she needed to make up an excuse and fast. Before she could another word out, the mother reappeared from the stall, eager to get her hands on the dress. Just as the pleading begun, an idea popped in her mind and out of her mouth.

"I was actually just about to sell my dress to this woman, Sir. You see, it's her daughter's wedding soon and she hasn't got a dress yet. After I bought this beautiful gown, she came to ask me for it. It was too busy in the stall so I thought a transaction out here would be better."

"You're going to give it to me?" The mother asked excitedly.

The guards nodded at each other. "Seems we were mistaken. Have a nice day Miss." They walked away and a loud sigh echoed from the girl's mouth. She turned around and saw the mother with a smile wide across her face.

"You are so generous, you're a wonderful person. Thank you so much! How much for the dress?" Her hands grabbed the material before she finished her praise.

She couldn't pull out now. The dresses were 15 peso in the store and as this woman was desperate she knew she could make a profit."20 peso," she muttered. The woman fluttered her hands and handed her the money without a thought as to the price.

"Thank you, thank you. You have made me so happy. Thank you!" she yelled as she walked away with her son still dragging on her leg.

The young woman clutched the money tightly in her hands, admiring the shine. She could get whatever she wanted with this! Her thoughts raced as to what she could do or buy next. She certainly would not be feasting on bread tonight. Rather, she would lavish on meats and wines and maybe have some leftover for a bed tonight.

Her smile widened as she leapt down through the market still keeping in mind that she needed new clothes. It was a waste to spend her profit on simple pieces of material so she decided that a quick snatch was still the best way to go. Keeping an eye out for comfortable clothes, she was disappointed when the only thing she could find was more dresses (after yesterday, she knew that pants would be cater better for her work).

Sadly, she reached the end of the market but could not find any easy-to-steal clothes. It was nearing midday and she was still worn and dirty. Despite not needing any extra money for tonight, she figured that an extra 5 peso would do her some good. She huffed in the heat and, before she started to search again, a bar with noisy men came into her view. She laughed as she dug her hands into her pockets and pulled out the 20 peso.

She strode confidently into the bar and ordered some rum. She savoured the taste as the liquid slowly dipped down her throat, the harsh alcohol making its journey to her bloodstream. She had forgotten the taste but was immediately reacquainted after the first few sips. After every last drop was taken from the jug, she considered ordering another and maybe another after that. Though deciding against it, she lingered in the bar a little longer.

"It's happening today," a drunken man murmured though his scarred lips. You could see the lines marked all over his face, as though it had been used by a toddler as a drawing board. Though you could smell the rum in his breath, he seemed coherent enough to form a sentence; obviously a skilled drinker.

"Did ya hear me lass?" he questioned, his voice growing louder and more frustrated. The young girl looked suspiciously. Did she know this man or was he just too drunk to know who he was talking too? Judging by his speech, she assumed he was a pirate of some sort – not a captain, his attire was too plain for that, but possibly a crewman.

"What's happening?" She wasn't sure why she had decided to engage with this drunkard but he seemed to entertain her with his knowledge of a coming 'event'.

"They're a comin' for him. Hasn't been doin' his work right they say. Been a little bit on the hesitant side. Say he's even refusing some work. Lord knows you don't do that, never oh never. I known a man who did that once. Next day his head was seen a floatin' on the sea. Brave man this one but they're comin' for him. He wouldn't know what hit him but they won't be kind, oh no never. Today's the day, Lord have mercy." His words slurred as his brought the jug to his parched lips once again, gulping in the liquid.

"Who's coming? Who are they after?" She grew more interested as his speech went on.

"They told me not to tell people in case they stop them. You don't wanna stop them, no, no, no. They'll get you too lass." He pointed a finger in her direction, jabbing it in her face. "No, no, you don't want that…" he continued to murmur.

"Tell me," she pressed on.

"The big one," he said quietly, "The man in the big house with the big windows and the big door. Say his name is Christoph, they do. Say he got a big brass lion's head on the door with guards all around the place, they say. But I'll let you in on a secret: these people own the guards. He'll think he's safe, oh my he will, the BANG, they'll a turn on him." He swung his arms outwards, nearly knocking the poor girl over. She steadied herself and took in the information he had just spilled.

Christoph? Lion's head? She gasped suddenly, it was the man she had so often delivered packages to, in fact she had delivered one only yesterday. She turned to the drunkard and, snatching his drink from his hand and pulling his shoulders to face her she asked, "Who's coming for him?"

"Them," he whispered.

"Who?" Her voice grew louder with every passing second the man withheld the information.

He held out his hand with his palm to the ceiling. She pulled back and looked at him questioningly. "Insurance," he mumbled. She gave a frustrated sigh and pulled 2 peso from her pocket, slamming it into his hands. He pocketed the money quickly before leaning over to her to whisper, "Templars." His voice suddenly hitched at the end of the word as his eyes frantically searched the room for anyone who could be listening.

She didn't understand. She'd never heard the word before. But it didn't matter now. Her suspicions were correct; a very real threat was looming over Christoph's head and if it so happened that the guillotine was pulled, she could be next in line.

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**I wonder what's going to happen...**

**Thank you guys so much for reading, if you still are. I know this is a short chapter but they'll get longer.**

**Just a little Background info on Christoph if anyone is interested. Of course, he is fictional but I wanted some proper history to be included. So, I researched physicists that would have been around at the time and I found a guy named Johannes Christoph Gundlach however, he would have been the next generation from this story so he wasn't exactly going to work. But alas, his father was also a physicist so, using the naming principle of some cultures that the father's first name becomes the son's middle name, Christoph Gundlach was created.**

**Hope you all enjoyed. Until next time!**

**- Madzamicated**


	3. Chapter 3: Arrivals, Cinders, and Tears

___Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and all characters, locations etc. within the game. I only own my OC._

**Thank you for the review 1heartgirl! It's so encouraging to know that people like the fanfiction. I hope future chapters don't disappoint!**

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_'Weigh, me boys, to Cuba,_

_Runnin' down to Cuba.'_

The crew laughed as the shanty drew to a close, taking a glance at their captain, waiting. They were about to pull the ship into dock; all knew their places but they let the captain have the satisfaction of ruling them. Many women said he loved the power of sitting on top (of the ship's hierarchy of course). It was an innate sense of control for him.

'Get ready to roll into port lads! Take your stations!' His voice sent the crewmen in an ordered rush to their positions, grabbing onto their assigned ropes and jumping into action. They set to work as the captain skilfully led the ship into port, his hands knowing the exact turns to take to make a smooth arrival.

He never tired of this – he could never tire of it. The view of the port drawing closer; the women and rum and treasure to be found was getting nearer with every bit of ocean the ship ploughed through. He remembered once explaining to Caroline how he dreamed it would feel to slide into port on the deck of a ship. 'A man of quality,' he whispered to himself, remembering the exact words he spoke to Caroline that day. Living his dream and discarding all thoughts of Caroline, a smile formed on his lips and he continued to instruct his crew for a safe entrance into Havana.

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'Scuse me Miss,' a young boy nervously stated as he looked up at an older woman who was clearly flustered as she paced on the side of the market. 'Boss say 'e got some work for ya. Told me to come 'nd fetch ya 'nd tell ya that 'e need to see ya now. Say it's urgent.'

She stopped pacing, tapped her foot a few times and bent down to the young boy. 'Thank you Diego but you're going to have to tell him that I've got something personal going on right now. You take the delivery and have the money.'

'But Miss, this one's for the big man. I'm too scared to go there. 'e'll shoot me, 'e will. Boss said 'e asked for ya, too.' The young boy looked down, guilty that he had spilt some information that he shouldn't have.

She stopped as a sense of urgency grew within her. 'Well, we better get a move on.' She chucked the boy onto her back and made her way to their Boss. Christoph, 'the big man', had asked for her. He knew what was about to happen; he knew that she knew too. Her legs pumped as fast as they could, racing to get to their Boss in time. The drunkard had said it was happening today. There were only a few more hours of daylight left; the murder couldn't be far off.

After some very vigorous running and dodging (she couldn't go up onto the rooftops because she knew Diego was afraid of heights) they arrived at the door she had come to be most acquainted with, besides the weather-beaten door of Kitty's. She kicked the door open to find her Boss with a letter in his hands. He had anticipated she would come, guaranteed it to Christoph already.

Allowing the boy to slide off her back, she snatched the letter from his hands and raced off.

'Wait!' her boss called. She turned suddenly with desperation, she was wasting valuable time. 'Take these clothes; they won't let you in otherwise.' He threw her some new clothes, a baggy white shirt with a burgundy corseted vest that reached her mid-thighs, paired with a brown sash and black pants with brown knee-high boots. She hesitated but immediately began throwing off her tattered rags to replace them with new material. The Boss and Diego turned away and only glanced behind them once they heard her footsteps jump through the door and saw a pile of rags on the floor.

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The destination was one of the Captains favourites; the liquor was cheap and the women were even cheaper, a perfect place for a pirate. He intended on relaxing before pursuing something of personal gain again, maybe he'll threaten a governor and steal all of their riches – the possibilities were endless. However, he'd need to be discreet unless he wanted the enemy to find him; the Templars. He'd operated against them for years just like his fellow workers. While the Templars worked for gain, The Captain and his associates would be one step in front of them, taking the power they hungered for out of their reach. It was a race that had waged war between the two sides for centuries now, kept in the dark from normal citizens.

This game they had started was played on the chess board of the world. The Captains side were always spread across the board, lurking in the spaces between the Templar rooks while the Templars highest powers remained in their places heavily protected. However, when they did move their decision was calculated, often jumping over the opposing team to hastily reach the other side of the board and take the King, their most glorious prize. Tactics of both sides ranged immensely. The Captain and his team enjoyed catching their enemy and knocking them off the board all together, pushing past their barricades to those who held the highest position. However, the other team would often quietly crawl to the other end of the board, square by square until they were close enough to taste the victory. The Captain's side had a small amount of rooks but preferred to invest in more valuable pieces that could always protect their King from the Templar rooks. The rooks often disappeared as soon as they had come, being knocked off the board and crashing onto the table, their crystal pieces being dispersed.

They had their rooks in deep in Havana but the Captain was never one to play it safe. He enjoyed jumping between rooks, the thrill of the chase and the smashing of crystal pieces abandoned from the game. It gave him a sense of accomplishment; nearly as fulfilling as rum and women.

He had spotted Templars as he roamed around the island, dressed as guards. 'Of course' he thought, 'Why wouldn't they?' It would be the easiest way to execute violence in front of citizens but still warrant their reasoning to do so. They could also patrol the island without suspicion from residents. It hadn't been like this last time he had come here but then again, that was a few months back when they had just started becoming acquainted with Havana. The Templar army grew bigger with each passing day. Their rooks were filling up the board leaving less and less squares to hide on. The Templars had made their calculated move, it was the Captains turn now.

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Her muscles ached from running but she wouldn't dare stop now. The letter was crumpled in her hand but she couldn't give up. She had never been so scared in her life however, she realised that her fear, though selfish, was also directed toward Christoph; the man that knew what it meant to be aware of mental and emotional imprisonment. She feared losing him, not only for his sympathy toward her but for her work. Deliveries would drop; most were his. She wouldn't be paid and she would starve and, even worse, her promise would be broken. That was one thing she couldn't risk.

She willed her legs to push that little bit further, there were only a few blocks left. The biggest house in Havana was in sight. The sun was past its point in the sky so the murder could not be far away. She addressed herself to every saint in heaven, even though she wasn't strictly religious; maybe they could provide some help. Any help would suffice.

She saw two guards at the entrance to the property and they yelled at her as she approached. She quickly raised the letter to show them her cause but they were not convinced. She stopped in front of them and panted.

"Please, I must go through! Let me through," she urged as she attempted to push past them.

"Sorry Ma'am but we cannot allow it. Sir Gundlach is occupied." They pushed her to the ground to reinforce her place and their view of her. She was disgusted and, dusting the dirt from her back, proceeded to scream at them and attempt to break their defence to reach the house. She told them what was bound to happen and that she could stop it if they let her. Hearing this, they dragged her into some dense scrub and questioned her.

"Where did you hear this?"

"If you have told anyone else…"

"For your knowledge, we will have to kill you."

With tears rushing and blood gushing from their rough handling, she bolted one last time for the house, letter in hand. But before she could run four steps, guards at her heels, the building up the hill exploded. She was thrown backwards from the blast though she was on the outskirts of the affected area. She stayed down and her ears rang. The cinders fell to the ground like fireflies next to her. Looking up, she spotted dark smoke in the sky. Looking beside her, she saw the guards, also thrown back, as well as pieces of the building still slightly burning. Sitting up and looking before her, the remnants of a house that once stood tall on the hill, governing Havana.

She scrambled upwards and bee-lined for the house. With blurred vision from the tears, she ran through the splintered wood and searched for Christoph; he could not be found. She suffocated in her anguish and fell, knees buckling onto the uneven surface before her.

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The people in the tavern screamed. The singing ceased and all heads turned to the hill. Captain Kenway had heard the explosion and turned instantly, immediately noting the lack of guards running to the scene. He scowled, knowing that this was their doing. Standing from the bar stool, he rushed to Adewale, his second in command.

"Get some crewmen to investigate the explosion for me; I'll be searching for Templar information from the guards. It's time some action begins." With a swift nod from Ade, their conversation was over. Edward reached behind him and grabbed his hood, pulling it over his eyes.

"Good move," he whispered before running off into the dense foliage.

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Spending some time nestled in her own tears, the girl realised that she could not be seen here. Shakily standing, and looking over the burnt house once more, she ran for the bushes.

With so many thoughts consuming her, she jammed her hands into her pockets and searched for some money; maybe alcohol could relieve her overactive mind. But instead of money, she found the letter that was intended for Christoph. She knew the value of privacy but, in her grief, opened the unmarked letter and unfolded the expensive paper inside.

Her breath stopped and her eyes went wide as she read the first line. She was stunned. No amount of alcohol could cause this effect, only the strange coincidence of what lay before her eyes and in her shaking hands.

She whispered the first line to herself and, as she gripped the letter tighter, she began to read again.

_Dearest Atharia,_

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**There you have it! You finally know her name. I searched everywhere for a name for her but she's such a special character so it was only fitting that she had her very own, unique name. That's all I can give you for now though but don't worry; the next chapter should be very interesting.**

**Thank you all so much for everything! And as always, please leave a review if you feel the need. Feedback is always so helpful. And if there is a spelling or continuity error, PLEASE let me know. **

**- Madzamicated**


	4. Chapter 4: Past, Present, Future

_Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and all characters, locations etc. within the game. I only own my OC_

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_Dearest Atharia,_

_You receive this in my death. My hope is that this letter will bring you new life from my passing; that you will rise from the flames. I know that you would have done all you could to bring this to me and all I am able to do is thank you for your diligence. But alas, dear child, this was planned long ago, supposedly without my knowledge. I knew this was my inevitable future. And before you question my staying, I was a prisoner regardless of where I ran. My knowledge supressed my freedom. You must learn to see this the way I do; I was a worthy sacrifice and now my legacy must live through you. I did not sustain many years left anyway._

_Atharia, you may be wondering how I know your name. I am lucky; not many people have the privilege. You did not share your name with me through your words, or even through writing, but I have known you far longer than you can remember me. No doubt, you remember growing up being closely associated with the Baker. I ran daily trade with him to gather warm bread to sustain my servants and you were always there. Your sneaky eyes would always follow the loaves that left a trail of smell to my manor. Once, your small hand attempted to snatch a piece but you were quickly swatted away by the Baker. I remember you were reprimanded but the message did not seem to enter your stubborn young brain._

_Years later, I remember stopping by to pick up my loaves and once I did, you took one very slyly. I watched but did not share my knowledge with the Baker. You looked malnourished despite the scraps you received from the Baker's dozen he so often baked so I thought one loaf may do you good. But I was soon surprised. You hid the loaf under your torn jacket and ran into a small doorway where you handed it to a girl younger than you. From that point, I was aware of your sacrifice to your sister, regardless of your own state. You could see in your young eyes that she was your first priority, coming before even your own health. I quite admired that in you. I remember a time when I carried out the same actions for my own family._

_I went back to the Baker once I saw this and asked who you were. He mentioned that you were a street child, caring for your younger sister. Neither of you knew your names when he scooped you up from your slumber in an abandoned cart one night. From my years of trade, I knew that the Baker valued wisdom, as represented by the owl. He was a man with much knowledge on the creatures of the sky and so, it is only expected that your name originated from the wisest of the wings themselves. He shared that he named you Athene Cunicularia after the Cuban Burrowing Owl, and your sister, Athene Noctua, meaning 'Little Owl'. He found it fitting as she was known as 'the little one'. You were given the bigger owl, the guardian and protector of the little ones. Of course, he could not call you both Athene, so your sister became Noctua and you, Atharia; a combining of both first and last nomenclatures. _

_I knew that you did not reside with the Baker; he would provide better care than the poor safety of a doorway. So, I concluded that you must have lived on the street. I only wish I could have taken you in as my own along with your younger sister, but a manor filled with secrets and dark memories is not the place to call home for a young girl as inquisitive as yourself. But, as I could not care for you in shelter, I concluded that I could help you otherwise, hence my hiring of you as a messenger. _

_As you grew further and I saw you regularly with my packages, I became increasingly worried about you. Despite my payments to you, your health did not seem to be improving. I supposed that you were giving the food to your sister but for all the money I had given you, you should have had a sizeable portion. Little did I know, your situation was getting worse, and as prices rose for goods in Havana, the sum I was giving you was unsustainable. I soon heard of your plans to put your sister in a brothel; how heart-wrenching that must have been for you. I found that you gave all the food to her as well as some money, so she could become more voluptuous and attain fabrics of more worth than the tattered rags you both wore. I knew that if I gave you more money, you would not better yourself so the sum did not increase._

_Once your sister was in the brothel, you started to improve and you began to make meaningful conversation with me. You were always bright but now, you received the gift of words and the way you strung them together so confidently and effortlessly never ceased to amaze me. If you were able to attain a proper education, I believe you may have become one of the most powerful women in the world. Of course, from our discussions I knew you would never submit to a husband that disagreed with you; you would rather achieve alone. And I am certain you would have. Your stubbornness would have served you well._

_There are so many differences between us yet I have always found an understanding soul in you. We were both bound by promises but in the end, mine ended up killing me. I pray yours will not end you like mine did. You were always sympathetic towards my foolish plight and you, of all people, a homeless woman, could understand the feeling of entrapment. I am certain you often wished to have money spilling from your pockets, nice dresses and a fashioned manor. But, dearest Atharia, you do not know how often I have wished to be poor and to be free from the mess of the rich. If I could somehow pass my riches onto you, I would, but I fear they have taken it away. Only now, in the final days before my death, I realise the insecurity of money and grand houses with expensive wine in crystal glasses. I did not take any of those 'things' with me. I took my mind and my heart. And my most dear Atharia, if you take nought from this letter, I plead that you absorb this. Follow your heart but take your mind with you. It is the single greatest advice I can pass on and I only hope you heed my warning within these words._

_My reasoning of this letter was not to share your past, though it is a valuable tool in looking to your future, but rather to share some confidential information with you. As I mentioned earlier, you always intrigued me with your inquisitive and bright nature; a combination which I saw in myself. The group that erased my life used me as a tool for my scientific knowledge and understanding. But they were not aware that I was working on a piece that was far greater than they had imagined. _

_I have hidden the plans where they cannot find them. Atharia, as my dying wish, I request you to look for these plans and build what I cannot complete myself. But be careful! What you create from the plans has the power to change the world. Not as drastically as you may imagine but alas, it has much power. People will come after you so it is best that you memorise the plans then burn them. If anyone else discovers my – our – creation, especially those that murdered me, the world will suffer and not benefit from it. _

_The plans are hidden in pieces among the forest in Havana. They are all located within the bark of the trees where the owls nest. You must find these places yourself for I cannot provide any more information to you. Once you find all the pieces, lay them on top of one another and they shall reveal what has been hidden for so long. _

_Atharia, burn this letter, do not keep it for sentimental purposes for sentimentality will not gain you favour in this world. It is a danger to anyone else who lays eyes on it. Do not share any information within it, not even to your imprisoned sister, Noctua. I pray life improves for the both of you. Hopefully these plans will ensure this prayer be answered._

_It would be such a shame to see your motivation and diligence go to waste. Carry them with you always and you will never be beaten. Even in death, the prize will be yours. _

_Yours in life and in passing,_

_Christoph Gundlach_

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**So there's Atharia's history! The real action starts next chapter!**

**Thanks to all for favoriting and following. As cliche' as it sounds, it means a lot to me.**

**Love, Madzamicated**


	5. Chapter 5: Pursuit and Prey

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my OC (as much as I would love to own Edward)_

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Before her tears could stain the letter, she packed it away in her pocket. She drew her breath and leaned against a tree to support her legs that threatened to give out. How could this happen? The man that she had felt closest to had died and all along, he knew her past. Why had he not shared it with her? She had always convinced herself that her past was not important but deep down, the niggling sensation kept eating at her. Was it not an innate human longing to know of one's past? Not that her past had been a spectacular one but nonetheless, it created the very being of this unfortunate soul.

Emotions suddenly swept over her. Firstly, anger. Why had he hid this essential part of her existence? How, if they were so similar, did he neglect to tell her? She suddenly swung her arm around and smashed the tree with her forearm, the anger blinding the pain. She kicked at the tree as though it was the very embodiment of her unanswered questions. Rapidly, her pain towards Christoph for withholding this information turned into resentment for herself. Thrashing, multitudes of inquisitive thoughts popped into her head, interrogating her for not pursuing her past earlier; if not for her, then her sister.

She had never wanted to know, it always seemed plain enough to her. A street-child that was unloved by most and ignored by society. How could this have changed her? The truth was, it did not instigate much of a change. There was no life-altering vision or even a grand reveal of things that had been unknown. Only the small comfort of knowing; that was all.

Atharia remembered the day Noctua had asked about their past.

"Did we always live on the streets, sister? I don't think we did. I think we lived in a huge castle!" She demonstrated with her arms, pulling them above her head and stretching them out to the sides in a semi-circle. "It would have had two floors and a cool marble white floor. We would have had big, comfy beds with a huge playroom. Mama and Papa would have…"

"No, Noctua," she had quickly ordered. "We did not live in a castle, we never will. We are from the street."

"What about the Baker? He's a relative of ours, is he not?" Noctua was adamant that she was a princess. She was not merely abandoned and the Baker was certainly not her father. He was most likely a cousin of theirs, but he had to look after them while their parents were away. She was a daughter of a king and she would not accept a truth that came below that.

"Noctua, please, stop questioning. We have each other. That is all." She bent down to her younger sister's level. "It does not matter where we came from, little sister. What matters is that I am here and we will make a good life for ourselves together." Atharia forced a small smile as a symbol of hope to her younger sister.

Noctua simply huffed and stomped her foot. "Well maybe I'm a princess and you're not my sister!"

Rolling her eyes, Atharia grabbed her sister's hand despite her tugs to get away and pulled her along. "We are sisters, Noctua. We are not princesses. What does it matter anyway? Even if we were princesses, our parents are gone as is our standing with them. Give it up Noctua! Whoever they were and wherever they lived, whether they were royalty or not, matters little now. It won't change you. Stop searching."

"I hate you!" the little girl screamed, tugging furiously to get away. Atharia huffed, picked her up, and ran into a doorway to try and sedate her sister. This crying was good for neither of them.

At the age of seven, Noctua wanted to know about her past. At the age of 11, Atharia knew better than to look behind her, courtesy of her inconsistent workings as a delivery girl.

The memory brought tears which covered her anger and amplified the pain in her limbs from her outrage. She pushed her back up against the tree and, clutching her forearm, slid down to the base. Her fury had given way to sadness and regret. Regret for not bothering about her past, and sadness of the knowing of it. She knew she would have to tell her sister sometime but now was certainly not the time.

Resting her head on her knees, she breathed deeply for a few minutes to calm her unstable emotions. No matter what she thought, she convinced herself that she was comforted knowing about her past; a part of her life filled in. Now, instead of looking back, she needed to look forward. Explicitly, to the plans Christoph had left her in the forest.

She briefly wondered why he had entrusted her with such a big task. A small smile drew on her lips; she mattered to someone, enough for them to trust her with something that had the 'power to change the world.' She decided to pursue this feat, whatever it may be; to fulfil the old man's dying wish. Despite the danger, she would find a way to complete this 'mission' and perhaps give some happiness to the man that had once given her a life without her knowledge. It was time for her to repay him in kind for all he had done. Her capture from these 'Templars' was disregarded as she decided that it would not deter her from her goal. Again, Atharia's stubbornness came into play. And Lord knows when she wanted something, she would take it. And nothing – _nothing_ – would stand in her way.

She gradually stood up, her left hand still clutching her right forearm. She lifted her sleeve up to her elbow and saw a purple bruise arising. And of course, what is the first thing you do when you see a bruise? Poke it. She winced. It looked bad but it felt even worse. No climbing today then, she would only be able to search for the plans that were around her height; she couldn't afford any more damage to her arm.

Turning once more to the ruined manor, she gave a soft smile and nodded briefly. He was somewhere in there. Would he be proud that she took up his request? She hoped so. The guards and citizens of Havana were gathering around the destructed house and she felt it was time she left. She turned around and looked at the forest before her, delighting in the task ahead. Treading gently and quietly, she wondered where and how she would find the place where the owls resided. She'd played in the forests as a little girl, but never took notice of the birds that flew around her.

_Of course!_ She thought. The Baker would surely have some information; he did name her after an owl after all. She always knew the bakery would be some sort of safe-ish haven for her, but now the man that had cared for her so much as a child held the answers to her future. Christoph was right; the past is a valuable tool in looking toward your future. With a bounce in her step – something she had missed from her walk since she was young and carefree – she made her way to the bakery. Her legs could not handle the anticipation and began to take her there faster. She was on the brink of running, a huge smile painted on those unexercised lips and she knew not why. Was it because a huge hole that she had been denying was suddenly filled? Was it due to the comfort of knowing her past? Or was it because she now had a purpose other than her promise? She did not know and best of all, she did not care. She was finally experiencing some sort of happiness.

As she ran she made a promise to Christoph and herself. 'I will do this,' she whispered as her legs continued to reel beneath her. 'I will get this done no matter what stands in my way. And you of all people know that I do not break my promise.'

* * *

The Captain had finished terrorising (and killing) the guards of Havana. He was tired of people withholding information from him. Nothing was spilled from the trembling lips of those guards despite all the threats Edward could deliver. With not a single regret in him, he slaughtered them one by one. He would get what he wanted in the end but he was not a patient man.

One of them murmured that the Templars would find him and punish him for the error of his ways. His response: 'You really don't know me do you. If your piece-of-shite Templars ever get their filthy hands on me, they'll wind up having no hands at all.'

'It's no good to kill the messenger, how else will you find out what you need?' the guard challenged.

Edward smirked. 'Whatever shall I do? Maybe I'll just ask them myself when I infiltrate this little system they have going on here in Havana. It won't be hard, you know. All I'll have to do is kill you, take what you own and make them think I'm one of you filthy maggots.'

'They have tabs on you. They know who you are. You'll die before you make it past taking my clothes.'

Ignoring his comment, Edward gave one final statement. 'Unfortunately, I do believe in killing the messenger. You know why? Because it sends a message.'

With that, he had shoved the hidden blade into his lung and, with the last breath he had, the guard whispered, 'Bastard.'

'A lot of people say that, mate. And it's all true. But I'm too proud to be discouraged by the likes of you.' He kicked the guard aside and left him there to suffer in his final moments.

The rest of the guards he had coerced said nothing, besides the threats and all, but none of it was useful in finding out about the explosion. The money he stole from their pockets however, that was very useful. _At least they were good for something _Edward thought as he set his eyes on the destroyed manor at the top of the hill. He strolled up the incline and used his supersensitive hearing to find out some information about this incident from the distressed citizens that crowded around the cinders.

'That was Sir Gunlach's manor.'

'How did it explode?'

'Don't know but there doesn't seem to be many guards around here.'

'You think they did it?'

'Just seems a bit fishy is all. I heard someone say there was a girl trying to get in right before it blew. Apparently she ran away afterwards, tears streaming down her face they said. She must've been a relative of his. But who knows now.'

'So she knew it was going to happen then? If she was trying to get in beforehand she would have known.'

'Suppose so. I only hope this doesn't happen to anyone else in Havana.'

'Sir Huuman may be next, you know. His house is just as big as this one…'

'No, no, no. This was not because of the manor. Don't you think they would've kept it in tact if they wanted it? No, it was because Sir Gunlach must have been involved in some fishy business. There's no other reason a manor just goes ka-boom.'

That was all the information Edward needed. A girl that ran away and some fishy business; no doubt he didn't fulfil something with the Templars. He continued to push through the crowd and caught two Templars discussing quietly. He inched closer to them and listened stealthily to their conversation.

'We have to find that girl. The guards that she attacked said she knew it was going to happen. It's too dangerous to have her running about god-knows-where and spreading information about us.' The Templar was adamant to find her; she was a threat to their perfectly organised plan.

'We will find the wanted woman master. We'll bring her to you once we have her. She'll pay.' The more naïve Templar was out for revenge but was soon interjected by his master.

'When you find her, you do not kill her. You do not hurt her at all or you will sustain the injuries you inflict upon her. I need her alive. She may know something we don't.'

The smaller guard huffed, seeming as though the fun he had planned (no doubt her torture) was taken away from him. But he replied obediently, 'Of course master,' as continued to walk into the crowd.

The 'wanted woman'. Edward was intrigued now; he now knew how to hurt their little plan. All he had to do was take the girl, kill her maybe, to put a dent in their plan for power. It seemed so simple but as he thought more on it, problems arose. He didn't even know what this girl looked like! He scowled and made his way to his crew, standing towards the front of the crowd, many of them trying to pull information from the citizens just as Edward was doing moments before.

'Adewale!' Edward yelled as he got closer, drawing the attention of the dark-skinned quartermaster with big arms crossed over his broad chest. He always looked menacing. He could be in the best brothel in town with the finest jug of rum in his hands and would still look as though he was about to rip someone's throat out. But it was useful in a world where pillaging and plundering were daily activities.

He was at least a head taller than the rest of the crowd so, when he turned around, he was easily able to spot Edward making his way over to him.

'Captain,' He greeted.

'Got anything useful yet?' Edward asked. Some news about the girl would be nice.

'People been saying there was a girl round here when it happened. Supposedly she ran into the forest but no one's seen her since then.' Ade flicked his head in the direction of the forest behind the house, indicating her escape route.

'Good. Do any of the men know what she looked like?'

'The guards over there are the only ones that know what she looks like,' Ade stated, pointing to two guards in deep conversation on the outskirts of the crowd. 'None of the crew has been able to eavesdrop on them yet. They're still trying to get something out the crowd, Captain. I say we go after her and find what she knows. She wouldn't have run if there was nothing to be afraid of.'

'Thanks Ade,' Edward commented. 'I'll find out what those guards know and will return with news.' Edward slunk into the crowd and pushed his way to where the guards were huddled, seemingly discussing some important business. Their backs were turned on the crowd, disclosing the confidential nature of their conversation. It looked tense. Their bodies were both rigid with hands often moving in motions that conveyed stress or anger. Moving closer, Edward heard parts of their conversation.

They were planning to find her and kill her; pretend that nothing had ever happened. They were to erase her, making their lives infinitely safer. Both knew they would be punished for letting her get away. As they talked, he saw the more naïve guard from before join in their banter and ask for a description of the girl so he would be able to find her.

'Who needs to know?' One guard questioned. There was now a competition to find the wanted woman.

'I have to find her so if you two dim-wits could tell me what she looked like and what she was wearing, we can all get on to doing our jobs.'

The two nervous guards gave a detailed description, figuring they would be punished even more for not telling him. Edward was only able to catch pieces but found out enough to give him a lead.

Long brown hair, petite facial features, white baggy shirt and a burgundy vest. He returned to Adewale and told him what he found and instructed the crew to search the city for her. If she was found, take her to the ship. They had until evening. As he was about to leave them and search for this woman himself, Adewale pointed out a familiar figure at the port.

'Isn't that Thatch, Captain?'

Edward squinted. He noticed the long beard and baggy hat, and of course, the confident stride Thatch always walked with. 'Aye, it is. I'll go speak to him. Tell the crew to keep searching for her.'

Walking into the bar where Thatch was, he noticed the bold sailor sitting by himself, saturating his thirst with a jug of rum. He drunk quickly, swallowing the liquid down as if attempting to drown his sorrows. Edward approached him. 'Thatch!' he yelled, causing the Captain to look up with weary eyes. He took a seat next to the older man and simply asked, 'What's got you drinking all the rum of Havana? You better slow down or there'll be none left for me. You know how I get when there's no rum.' He hit his friend on the shoulder in a joking manner, earning a gruff laugh from his friend.

'Nothing, Kenway. Just decisions. I'll not burden you with them.' He turned to look at the young and excited Captain sitting next to him. 'What's got you looking so happy? Is there a decent brothel I haven't tried yet?' He mocked Edward in an attempt to draw out the information he knew the young Captain was withholding.

'Thatch, I have my eyes on some prey…'

* * *

She arrived at the Bakery, huffing from the running but the smile did not escape from her lips.

'Baker!' she called into the stall, finding him out the back, appropriately, baking.

He turned to look at her. 'Atharia.' He embraced her quickly before pushing her away and saying with worry, 'I have no scraps today. If you come later, there may be some.'

'That is not what I came for Baker. I came to ask you something about your passion.'

She described what Christoph had written in the letter about her past with the Baker, even sharing when she had taken that stray loaf from him, receiving a playful ruffling of hair. 'You were always cheeky.'

The conversation continued and eventually, Atharia came to the point of her visit. 'I know you named me and my sister after the owls, the wisest of the wings. But Baker, I'm sure you have watched them at some time or another in the forest. Would you be so kind as to tell me where their parliament hides? I am in dire need to find where they rest as I have some very important business to attend to where they lay.' She explained in a rushed manner but was so eager to find these pieces that she did not mind her swift tone.

The Baker smiled, obviously happy to be engaging with his favourite topic. 'Of course, dearest Atharia. Come with me.' He walked to the front of the shop and brought out his topographic map of Havana.

'The owls reside in three different parts of the forest. Here, here and here,' he pointed. She tried to memorise the three parts of the map he had pointed out. 'I'd take you there myself but you know I have business to attend to here.'

'Of course! Of Course! Thank you, Baker. You have been so kind to my sister and I. I don't know how I shall ever repay you. But alas, I must be off. This is very urgent business. Many thanks for your wondrous help. May the guardians of the sky watch over you!' she chanted as she ran towards to forest, giving him a final wave and she disappeared into the foliage.

She arrived to the closest place that the Baker had pointed out and saw two sleeping owls perched on a tree branch. She acknowledged their beauty then started to look for the plans. She was unsure of what she was looking for but she had come this far and was determined to locate these important papers. Unfortunately, the sun was dropping past the horizon so if she was to discover anything today, she would need to work quickly.

She scanned the trees and was overwhelmed by it all. Where would she start? Were the papers in the shrubs or in the trees? Did he bury them or just stick them in a piece of bark? She didn't even know if this was the right area to be searching in. She sighed and pulled out the letter again, hoping it would give her some guidance. Atharia dropped her gaze to the section where her expedition was detailed, not wanting the waterworks to come again from the above words.

_'The plans are hidden in pieces among the forest in Havana. They are all located within the bark of the trees where the owls nest. You must find these places yourself for I cannot provide any more information to you. Once you find all the pieces, lay them on top of one another and they shall reveal what has been hidden for so long.'_

'In the bark of the trees' – so not in the shrubs. And he mentioned 'places', so there was a high chance that there were some in each area. Energy renewed, Atharia moved towards the tree where the owls were resting. She walked around the circumference and didn't observe anything out of the ordinary at eye-level. She looked upwards and saw that a branch just out of reach was bent at an odd angle. _That is certainly not normal_ she thought.

She stood on her tip-toes with arms outstretched to reach the branch. After pulling her body as tall as she could, she returned to normal height with a slump. _Damn being short!_ She walked around the tree again, in search of a rock that she could use to jump onto the branch, even though she promised herself not to climb today. No rock. Atharia groaned, annoyed at the circumstances. She certainly wouldn't be able to pull herself up with her forearm the way it was. So instead, she picked up a bunch of small rocks. Aiming, she threw them one by one to the junction where the branch met the tree.

Eventually, the branch fell with a crack, causing the owls resting on the tree to fly away in shock.

'Sorry,' Atharia whispered as they flew for safety.

She rushed over to the branch and immediately noticed that it was not a normal branch at all. It was hollowed out. Peering inside, she saw a small piece of white, transparent paper rolled up in the hollowed out space. She snapped the end of the branch off, making it tunnelled and open at both ends. Shaking the branch violently, the piece of paper fell out and landed on the forest floor. The empty branch was discarded quickly as she ran towards to rolled paper. Unrolling it gently, she noticed it had strange markings on it. _I'm certain this will make much more sense once the rest are found._ She tucked it down her shirt and continued searching for more, keeping her eye out for odd branches protruding from the trees.

She had found three more plans once it had grown too dark to continue searching. They were all tucked safely into her chest; if any man (or woman) dared to even think of touching there, they would be punished severely and she could simply blame it on self-defence. Happy with herself for the day, she gathered all the hollowed branches in a pile away from the shrubbery and added Christoph's letter to the top. She made a fire and burned them all. The less suspicion of her search there was the better.

She sat by the fire and relaxed, allowing herself to reflect on the happenings of the day. And what a day it was! She watched the stars in the night sky twinkle and thanked whatever guardian angels (or owls) were watching over her. The fire threw spurts of yellow, orange and red into the air and at that moment, nothing could look more beautiful to her. She had risen from the flames just as Christoph had expected. Laughing, she reclined and revelled in her happiness and the perfection of the moment.

* * *

The crew pined through the forest for hours, trying to find the wanted woman.

'She's not here!' one of them yelled. 'We ain't gonna find her either.'

'Keep walking,' Adewale ordered with authority in his voice. 'We have until tonight to bring her back to the Captain.'

'Quatermaster, what's that?' the youngest of them pointed out. He motioned to smoke burning a few hundred metres away.

A smirk arrived on the ebony's face. 'We have the Captains prize boys. Get her but do not bring harm to her.'

They made their way through the forest, trying to keep quiet enough to arouse no suspicion from the sleeping figure. They made a circle around her and Ade jumped in to lift her up and over his shoulders.

She awoke immediately and, in the panic of the moment, started kicking, scratching, hitting and screaming. The men attempted to sedate her but to no avail. She tried to make a run for it, instead landing in the arms of Adewale.

'Who are you? What do you want with me? Go away!' she screamed at him as he made a vice around her.

Adewale did not speak nor did any of the other crew members. They waited until she had stopped fretting and all they could hear was her quick intake of breath as her body was rendered rigid. Ade beckoned one of the more experienced crew members over, a former medical man. He held her head in place, with much trouble, and pushed down on her neck. She fell limp. Quietly they took this wanted woman to the ship and placed her in the captain's quarters for him to inspect once he returned.

* * *

Edward had explained his feat to Thatch, with nods of approval from the bearded Captain.

'Sounds good, but why you doing this Kenway?' Thatch questioned.

'The Templars are up to something and she obviously has information about them if she ran. As I said, she tried to get in right before the explosion like she knew what was going to happen. She knows something Thatch, and I'm going to get it out of her.'

'Be careful Edward. She sounds like trouble that I wouldn't be messin' with,' He warned.

'Well, she's not a Templar if those guards were trying to kill her. And mate, just think, if I take this from them, I can ruin their whole plan. Pay my dues to the assassin's while I'm at it too.'

'Ah, mate, take caution and heed my warning. She may be trouble and if you two will be spendin' some quality time together… well, don't do anythin' stupid. Women like that don't take too well to pirates like us.' Thatch was anticipating something bad would happen but Edward knew not what. He discarded the thought from his mind and stood.

'Thanks for the warning Thatch but I'll be getting back to my ship now and devour my prey. I'll see you in future times, mate, and I hope your troubled mind becomes clear by then.' Edward shook hands with the pirate and walked off, anticipating to find his perfect prey on his ship.

The Captain strode onto the ship, welcomed with many cheers for his arrival. He walked to the helm of the ship and saw Ade standing looking out to sea.

'Do we have her?' he asked quickly.

Adewale turned to face the Captain. 'She's in your quarters Captain, as ordered.'

'Thanks mate. Aye, you've earned yourself a night at the wheel. Steer us to sea.' Edward rewarded the quartermaster with his greatest desire, to Captain the ship. He could not stand in that position permanently of course; the crew would not accept an ebony as their leader. But Edward saw no harm in him leading at times so, graciously thanked him through this opportunity.

Taking himself to his cabin, he walked in and saw the woman standing on the bed, a candelabra in her hands pointed at him as a mark of self-defence.

He smirked. 'Well hello dear. I believe you and I need to have a little chat.'

* * *

**There you go! Longest chapter so far so I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much to all the follows and faves that have been coming through. It makes me so happy that people like the story!**

**Is this chapter length better than the others? Just a point of reference so I know how to keep you guys happy! Any comments or criticism is much appreciated so leave a review if you have some time (I mean, you read a near 5,000 word chapter, I'm assuming you got at least some time...)**

**See you next week,**

**Madzamicated**


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